Never Let Me Go
by ArtemisNakajima
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov gets in a terrible accident while walking to the Hasetsu skating rink one morning and Yuuri can't help but blame himself; for the man's extensive injuries and the possible loss to the man's skating career.


I never thought that one practice could make me this physically and mentally exhausted, but Viktor proves me wrong with another one of his 'training exercises'. As I stumble across the bridge behind said coach, I can feel my muscles screaming in agony. The man's long strides don't help either; I'm practically jogging trying to keep up with him, and my breaths are heavy and painful. Viktor doesn't seem to notice; he's too busy marveling over something or other. I haven't been paying much attention; my legs feel like they've been hit by a truck and it's difficult for me to even stand.

"Yuuri~" Viktor says, turning to face me and stopping. I can feel my cheeks burn with heat, my body slowing down and starting to clench up. In order to make sure that I don't cramp, I keep walking past Viktor. He looks at me, bewildered, before rushing forwards to match my speed. I sigh in relief.

"You were amazing, you know," Viktor gushes. He looks over at me, and my ears perk up. Glancing over, I notice that his ears have gone pink, but weather it's from the cold or... something else, I suppose I'll never know.

"Hunh?"

"Have you been listening to me?" I look down, struck with embarrassment, and do not meet his eyes. He seems sad, as though he wanted me to hear something, so I make an effort.

"You... you were talking about my performance today, right...?" I attempt, glancing up in time to see his smile return full force. I can't help but stare a little under the cover of my eyelashes, watching him talk. He gets all animated when he's talking, like his emotions have become more pronounced, and I definitely enjoy that.

"Yuuri~" I finally realize that Viktor's stopped talking to me, and my ears turn pink as I stare back down at the ground, suddenly awkward.

"Y-yes?" I force out, speeding up a little but hearing Viktor keep pace with me. I silently curse my body for being so useless.

"Why were you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?" At first, I thought he was being sarcastic, but when I look over I realize all he has is sincere curiosity. Promising myself to never slip up like that again, I motion to his cheek, where he does in fact have a bit of chocolate. We'd been eating croissants earlier, and I'm surprised it took me this long to notice the small smudge on his left cheek.

I don't notice the bag in his hand, carefully hidden behind his large pocket as he shoves it inside his coat, nor do I notice the fact that his glove is missing from his right hand.

"Yeah, you have some right there~." I point at his cheek, directly where it is located on his face.

"Here?" He points at least an inch to the right, and I get the feeling that he's doing this on purpose.

"To the left," I mutter exasperatedly, pointing to my left. He moves too far, and I groan.

"No, right... No, Viktor!" He giggles, teasing me. Fed up, I lean forward, my hand going up to his cheek.

"Here, let me just-" I rub away the chocolate, but my hand stays fixed to his face as his eyes lock with mine.

"V-Viktor?" I whisper, but he just stares at me. Something seems to change there; like he's had an epiphany. He looks surprised; almost as surprised as he was when I first attempted a quadruple flip, but with less jaw-dropping. He just stares at me, his eyes on my face as my thumb subconsciously strokes his cheek gently.

Then his eyes fall to the floor and he steps away. I stare at the sidewalk, letting my hand fall to my side as I feel my face burn.

We don't speak the rest of the way home. It's like... a bar has been wedged between us, and I don't know how to force it out. When I reach out to put my arm on Viktor's shoulder, however, he drifts closer to me, his arm circling my waist as we complete the walk home in absolute silence.

..oo00oo..

"Viktor! Yuuri! I've made Katsudon!" calls my mother, Hiroko. Her short body appears around the bend, and she places steaming bowls of the rice dish in front of Viktor and I as we plop ourselves down. I momentarily wonder how long she'd been waiting for us to come in; the speed with which she was at the table was that of someone who'd been readily prepared.

Viktor and I dig into our Pork Cutlet Bowls, the dam still in place. I glance up at him every so often, but he seems to be...

Shy?

No, that can't be right word. Viktor isn't shy. But then, what else could this be?

Viktor finishes his Pork Cutlet Bowl in silence, and I stare at the small amount left in my bowl before passing it to my mother. She looks down at me worriedly when she sees that there is still some in my bowl, but the look I give her says more than enough, and she walks away. After the next ten minutes pass by silently, I finally lean on the table and open my mouth to speak.

"So, about my performance tod-"

"I'm going to go to bed now, is that okay?" Viktor mutters, standing from his crisscross position and walking out into the hallway. His sullen expression is the last thing I see before he closes the door to his room without another word.

"What the hell?" I splutter, staring up at the hallway and standing incredulously. My hands hang loosely at my sides as I quietly walk over to Viktor's room and knock on the door.

"Viktor?"

"What, Yuuri?" he sighs, the sound laden with exhaustion. I hear his sheets rustle, but he never comes to the door.

"Can I come in?"

"Please don't. I'm very tired, and tomorrow's practice is going to be really tough. I suggest you get some sleep too," I hear him call, and my heart falls in my chest.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow," I mutter dejectedly. I turn and walk back to my room, my hands clenching at my sides; but not in anger. In confusion.

Why is Viktor acting so strange and distant? I did nothing but touch him on the cheek. And will he be okay tomorrow? -I ask myself, shouting,

"おやすみ [goodnight]!" as I stumble into my room and close the door soundlessly.

"What is up with him?" I mumble to myself as I slip under the covers without changing or anything. My clothes feel scratchy and crusty, but I don't care. I'm in my bed for less than five minutes before I feel myself drifting off to sleep, but I sleep fitfully.

When I wake up the next morning, everything has changed. The note I find on Viktor's bed when I walk in to wake him up merely states that he'd gone to the rink early and for me to meet him there; something that he'd never done before. After eating quickly and running to the rink, I slip on my skates and rush into the rink.

But Viktor isn't on the ice.

How odd.

"Viktor!" I call, by voice echoing over the slick ice. I slide out into the middle of the ice, performing a couple of flips before skating back to the side of the rink and frowning in worry.

I wonder where he could be. I mean, he was always the kind of person to gush about my performance, to be on the ice with me, even just to show off. He never told me he was going to be somewhere and then changed his mind without letting me know first. We'd been so connected; almost inseparable, that now that I can't find him, I'm kind of worried for him.

I step off the ice, tapping my toes against the ground in an effort to clear my skates of ice. I pull off my skates, my concern distracting me from my skating. Sliding on the covers and lacing them up into my bag, I swing the large, polyester skate-bag over my shoulder, grunting with the effort.

I suppose that Viktor could be at Nagahama Ramen, a small noodle shop by the pier, but I don't think he'd be there this early. He could have gone sightseeing, but he's been here long enough that I don't think that he'd be able to find much of interest around here.

The only other thing that pops into mind is Viktor leaving me and going back to Russia. My heart starts to race in my chest, and I drop my bag.

"No. Please, Viktor," I say, squinting back the tears. He can't have gone back to Russia. He told me he'd coach me; that he'd be here until the Grand Prix Finals. He couldn't leave now.

But that's the only thing I can think of. My mind keeps trying to convince me that he's gone, fighting my broken heart in a constant battle for control. My chest starts to hurt, and I choke back a sob.

Viktor can't leave; no, he's the best thing that has ever happened to me. He took me; a self-destructing, anxiety ridden mess and turned me into a true Grand Prix candidate. And now he was gone.

I claw at the front of my shirt as I stumble towards the door, my eyes blurring and mind reeling. At some point I had picked my bag back up, but I barely noticed; my one goal was to escape. From the place that reminded me of Viktor and made me hurt in ways I shouldn't. The place that made me want to just curl up and die.

Because that's what it would be now. If Viktor was truly gone, then the one place that I could be myself, my one safe haven, would become a hell. I wouldn't be able to skate without heartbreaking emotion. And I really, really don't want to be another Georgi Popovich.

My heart calves when I reach the doors and no-one comes out. I was thinking that maybe Viktor had just taken a small detour; that maybe he would show up at the doors, take me up in his arms, and reassure me that he would never leave. Like I'm a ten-year-old child that needed reassurance.

Because honestly, I kind of am.

I slam through the door, my bag catching against the door frame and sending me sprawling across the ground. I cry even harder; not because it hurt to hit the ground, but because if Viktor was here, he would have caught me. Because in the past he'd always supported me unflinchingly; whether it was physically or emotionally. Or, so I'd thought.

The walk back home is fairly uneventful. If Viktor was with me, it would probably be full of laughter and excitement, but because he wasn't, it was just sad and terrifying. I didn't even realize before now how much comfort and love he'd surrounded me with. How much... exuberance. And I hadn't even thought that I would miss it until it wasn't around anymore.

There's a huge commotion on the bridge when I pass it. A huge eight-wheeler had hit someone crossing the street, and the newscasters are all over it. Probably someone famous. It looked like they had taken the person away, probably a few hours ago, but the truck is still being dealt with. I turn away from it, just focusing on getting home.

When I enter the house, I drop my bag by the door, intending to go up to Viktor's room to see if he is there, but my mother stops me in my tracks. The look on her face is beyond desolate; it's completely broken.

"He's left us, hasn't he?" I ask my mother, tears once again stinging my eyes, but this only makes her cry harder. I reach out to her, but she stops me.

"It—it was this morning..." She muttered, gripping my shoulder tightly. I fight back an oncoming wave of tears.

"It's okay, mother. I knew he wouldn't stay. He could never be happy here..." I say, staring up into her eyes. But then they change.

"Oh, no..." She mutters, pulling me into a hug.

"Viktor didn't leave." She sobs here, trying to stop herself from crying.

"Viktor would never leave. He'd looked solemn this morning sure, and that was probably what..." My mother broke down. I'd never seen her look like this before, except when my great-uncle had died...

The truck.

The ambulance.

Viktor not coming to the rink.

It all clicks into place.

"No!" I screech, scrambling out of the house as my mother falls to the floor. I slam through the fence, almost forgetting to unlock it before sprinting towards the hospital four miles away.

My breath is coming out it harsh, panting gasps as I run into the hospital lobby, my eyes probably wild and so terrified that the lady at the front desk reaches to phone for security.

"W-where's Viktor? Please, TELL ME!" I scream, pounding my fists against the desk. I'd never felt this angry before; if I hadn't tried to wipe away the chocolate on his face yesterday, he would never have been oddly distracted and gotten hit by that truck. He would've been perfectly fine, and we'd probably be skating at the rink as we speak.

Then that revelation sticks in my mind, the realization that this is all my fault hitting me in the face like a ton of bricks. I had distracted him. I had gotten him hit by that truck.

I am to blame.

I pull away from the desk, my knuckles white. A young nurse leads me down the hallway, but once I walk into the room I realize that I don't remember much of the journey. I was so nervous and scared about seeing Viktor that I hadn't even thought about where exactly I was going.

"He's in here," she mutters solemnly, but I stop before my fingers can wrap around the handle.

"Wait; aren't I supposed to be... like, family or something? To go in?" I look over at her, and she glances momentarily down at her pad.

"Viktor's put you down on his list as family. Now, if you don't want to go in then I can take you off, but-"

"Hold on... Viktor's put me down as family? How?" I reach out, but she holds the pad against her chest.

"Are you going to go in or not?" I'm still extremely confused, but I hold back.

"Alright," I say, taking a deep breath and pushing open the door.

My heart spasms in my chest when I see Viktor laying on the hospital bed, he head propped up on the pillows. I stand by the door, my heart hammering in my chest as a doctor leans down to Viktor's ear and whispers something. I subconsciously listen in, trying to hear what the doctor is saying, but I can't hear anything at this distance.

"Viktor~" I breathe out, but hands falling at my sides and my body sagging. He looks terrible. There are bruises all over his arms and feet. His face doesn't look horribly bad, but his skull is wrapped in bandages.

"Yuuri, is that you?" He tries to reach out with his arms, but the doctor holds them down.

"Yuuri, come over here. Please!" he calls to me, and I move towards him, hesitantly at first. Then I run to his side, crying against the sheets as I grip his hand harshly.

"Viktor, I'm so sorry for doing this! It's my fault you got hit by that truck, and I—I-"

"Yuuri~, don't blame yourself. It wasn't me either; that truck ran a red light. I'm just lucky that I was able to jump mostly out of the way so that I wasn't hit that hard. And great news; the doctor said that the hit wasn't hard enough to severely mess up any bones, so I should be able to continue skating! I probably won't be able to get into the Grand Prix next year, but the year after; I can't wait!" He shouted joyfully, looking over my shoulder.

Strange. Why isn't he looking at me?

"Viktor, how many fingers am I holding up?" I hold up three fingers.

"Yuuri, don't be ridiculous. I can't see anything. The doctors said that it was temporary; that they wrapped some bandages around my eyes in order to help it heal, but it is strange that I can't see anything at all." He frowns, his beautiful cerulean eyes glancing at the floor. I pull back, horrified.

"V-Viktor..." I gasp, tears streaming even harder down my cheeks.

"What's wrong Yuuri? I told you; I'm okay! And as soon as they take these bandages off, I'll be able to go right back to coaching you; how does that sound?" he says excitedly, sitting up and smiling at me. But I'm not smiling. Viktor reaches for my hands, hardly being able to lift his at all, but he searches out my arm all the same.

"Yuuri~, where did you go?" he asks confusedly, his fingers digging into the sheets, but I can't move. I'm completely frozen in horror.

Viktor was lied to. There are no bandages around his eyes, or anything else that could block his vision from the outside. He simply can't see.

Viktor Nikiforov, figure skating legend and my effervescent coach, is blind.


End file.
